


The Lady Lies

by MartinaEvans



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Violence, Clueless Brian, Demon Roger Taylor, Freddie is literally a killer queen, John Is So Done, M/M, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17949605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinaEvans/pseuds/MartinaEvans
Summary: Brian Harold May knew for sure he was lost when the dirt path on the map gave way to low, intricate bushes, until it disappeared completely. He could almost hear John puffing in the distance, as he reproached him for the fact that that was the price he had to pay for being, quoting him, 'a stubborn little bitch with delusions of grandeur'.Suddenly, the idea of venturing all alone, at nightfall, into the apparently haunted forest of Rhye, didn't seem quite so good even to the young astrophysicist.





	The Lady Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I'm back again posting my story, although this time in English, as I've basically spent the previous night trying to translate it in the best way I could. I'm Italian, and this is my first time writing something both in this fandom as in English (I've been studying it for so long, but my skills are definitely rusty): I hope you won't find too many horrendous mistakes! 
> 
> The story is inspired by the song "Lady Lies", from the album "...And then there were three..." by Genesis.

Brian Harold May knew for sure he was lost when the dirt path on the map gave way to low, intricate bushes, until it disappeared completely. A particularly cold gust of wind lashed his angular face, forcing him to wrap himself more and more in his blue guarnazzone*: he could almost hear John puffing in the distance, while reproaching him for the fact that, that was the price he had to pay for being, quoting him, _'a stubborn little bitch with delusions of grandeur'_.

-

_The tavern was crowded as usual, warm shelter against the unusual frost: the scent of lard and game intoxicated the senses, while rivers of freshly distilled cervogy*, relieved the spirits. Two young men were immersed in a deep conversation at a table aside._

_\- Brian, call me dull, but I can't understand: why look for it? You can see those damn stars from the roof of your house, from mine, or from that of anyone else in this damn place. Do you really have to go there? -_

_\- Deaky, let me finish. Look at the map: there’s a clearing above the hill, see? It’s marked. Do you have any idea how I possibly could see the sky once I put my telescope there? Not to mention that I will also stay away from Prenter and his band of idiots: last time they threw rocks at me, they almost got me blind. -_

_John Deacon shook his head, took a sip of Braggot* from the mug and returned to stare at the disconsolate curl: - You know what they say about the forest, Brian. And no, it’s not nonsense, considering that Dominique Beyrand has never returned from that walk. Moreover, I already have enough trouble on my own, with Veronica and the children: frankly, saving your ass is not exactly in my future plans. -_

_Brian pinched the bridge to his aquiline nose. Oh, come on! Did John now believe in witches, too? He was already forced to endure those crazies who every damn day cried out for the country to repent, that 'the end of the world was near, sinners!', he didn’t need his best friend (to whom he had mistakenly attributed some brain) to make psychological terrorism: that poor girl had certainly been unlucky, but this did not mean that in the woods dwelt who knows what ravenous entity, ready to devour the first to come._

_\- You know, now that I think about it, even the carpenter, the one who lived at the end of the village, with the funny moustaches, whose name was... Jim! Yes, Jim! He's been gone for a while now, and he said he wanted to go there and look for some wood! See? Everything matches, that place is cursed, Brian! -_

_Brian folded the map with a stirred gesture: - John, listen, nothing you can say or do will change my mind: I've made my decision, so you can stop fretting and instead start helping me out, because this stuff won't fix itself. -_

_And in doing so, Brian emptied the entire contents of his 'work' bag on the table (John just had time to save the roast from his exalted friend) making it clear to the red man that he was waiting for a long afternoon to clean, fix, build tools of whose existence he was clearly unaware of. Deacon slapped his hand on his tired eyes: - Have I ever told you that I hate you immensely when you do this?_

_\- I love you too, John. -_

-

And speaking of slaps, Brian felt the urge to slap himself, hard: he was hungry, his right shoulder hurt like hell due to the weight of the equipment, his legs felt numb by fatigue, and as if that wasn't enough, his poor bladder was about to collapse.

He tried in vain to read the map, hoping for a stroke of genius, but the previous seemed to make no sense, especially with the little sunlight left: the darkness was slowly dropping like an impenetrable blanket, swallowing the trees, muffling the world.

\- Very good, Dr. May, really - mumbled the astrophysicist, stopping for a moment to turn on the oil lamp he had brought with him - Zero sense of orientation, Deaky is going to kill me when I come back, or rather, if I come back, I'm not so sure anymore… -

Suddenly, a sharp cry interrupted his senseless rambling: the curl just had time to see a thin figure illuminated by the last rays, that this one, probably stumbling in some root, flew a few meters down, along the slope of the hill. Brian's long legs moved quickly before his brain commanded him, and he proceeded towards the girl, no, the boy who was crouching near a bramble, whining softly.

\- My God, are you okay? -

The young man slowly raised his blonde head, and Brian found himself hypnotized by a pair of too -blueeyes, which stared at him behind dark eyelashes: - I fell - he whispered with little voice, smiling and continuing to massage his ankle with a painful expression painted on his beautiful face.

\- Let me see - Brian didn't know how, but he found himself with his knees propped up in the damp ground, his fingers feeling uncertain over the offended point of the other and his mind running, trying to recall his little medical knowledge. Almost without hesitation, he pulled out a piece of the fabric in which he had carefully wrapped the telescope and held it around the stranger’s leg, making sure that it was well still: a simple basic operation, which that clear gaze, fixed on him, made much more complicated.

\- Are you a doctor? -

\- W-what? - Brian unintentionally shook, but immediately recomposed himself - Oh, no, no! I like to call myself a man of science, but no, I'm not a doctor. -

\- Too bad, you'd make a very good doctor. Roger Taylor, nice to meet you! - at which the boy - Roger - stretched out his hand, and waited for Brian's trembling one to squeeze it, which happens when his brain started functioning again.   
  
\- Do you live in the village? I don't think I've ever seen you. - I'd remember' he’d liked to add, but he held back because he did not want to seem more disturbing than he actually was, with leaves entangled in his curly hair, clothes dirty with mud and a slight nervous tick to his right eye.

Roger smiled at him again, carefully propping himself up on the trunk of the tree with his arms, and levering up to get up. Once standing on his shaky legs, he shook his blue robe - too thin for the nightly frost, Brian thought - and his eyes glowed towards Brian's emergency bandage, then moved on in search of his lamp, which had ended up somewhere.

\- I live here in the woods. -

Brian raised an eyebrow and exclaimed - Alone? - before he could stop: it's okay to be self-sufficient and everything, but that boy had the same age as him, if not a few years younger, and living in a forest, isolated from the rest of the world, more than an hour and a half walk from the nearby village, was just crazy.

\- With a friend. - He hastened to add, seeing Brian's puzzled glance - You know, we usually go out in pairs to avoid such problems, since my sight is quite poor, so I tend to stumble almost everywhere. Unfortunately, however, he left early this morning to visit his family: good thing you came...? -

\- Brian, Brian May. - He babbled, as he had not presented himself yet.

Roger stared amused at him.

\- Well, Brian May, am I taking advantage of your kindness if I ask you to take me home? It's getting dark, my ankle could play a bad trick on me at any moment, and you seem so, so tired... I could offer you some food, a glass of wine and, - the blond's voice got thicker - something else, if you wish. -

Speaking of approaching the opposite (and same) sex, Brian was really a landslide: completely blind in front of what Deaky defined as 'obvious attempts to slip into his starry pants', it took him years to find the courage to start a conversation, and not to mention flirting. But Roger's proposal was clearly indecent, and not at all veiled, if even a naive guy like him was able to understand it immediately.

_(With hindsight, for the second time that day, Brian called himself a fool for not having noticed the obvious trap he had gotten himself into: but he was too tired and hungry, and Roger's hips too narrow to just stare at them.)_

\- V-very well, let’s go, I’ll follow you. - The two walked slowly for a time that Brian could not define, the bubble of an owl in the distance the only sounds to be heard in the heavy silence of the night: the oil lamps flashed in the darkness. Roger was the first to speak, touching his arm with his thin hand, and then gripping tightly his waist when he risked stumbling again: the sudden contact made the astrophysicist shiver.

\- What brings you here to the forest of Rhye, Brian? -

\- Right now, I think my stupidity - But the initial idea was to find a suitable place for my astrology studies: unfortunately, however, I lost the path and I could not find it again. -

\- You don't see many people around here, especially in the evening: I was already thinking of rotting there, or ending up eaten by some wolf, or something else. You know, I've heard so many times that this place is haunted, that I think I ended up believing it, too. And you, do you believe in witches, Bri? -

\- I think people are quite impressionable these days, it's sufficient for someone to invent a story that spreads like wildfire, no matter if it's true or not. So no, my answer is no. I believe in human wickedness, but witches, ghosts, demons... They're not for me: they're just idiocies created by weak minds to explain the apparently inexplicable. -

Roger seemed vaguely dismayed by the answer, but surely Brian had only imagined it: the dark shadow that had passed over his face disappeared in a blink of an eye, replaced by a big smile.

\- What one would expect from a self-respecting man of science. Here we are, we have arrived. -

Roger's house was a little smaller than his own, with windows closed by animal skins and a strong wooden door, which creaked while opening to let them in. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming, unlike one would expect from a rustic house in the forest: the flickering light of the lit fireplace threw familiar flashes on the dark stone walls, on the modest table and on the two chairs placed on its sides. The entire floor was covered by carpets of raw cloth, while the kitchen was strangely bare: there was only a few worn copper cloth piled up distractedly and a plant skeleton in a terracotta vase. Finally, a staircase that had all the air of being unsafe, probably led to the bedrooms.

\- Please, sit down, I'll make you something -

Brian hadn't noticed that he was literally shaking from the cold, so he let himself sink onto the couch in front of the fireplace with a loud 'puff'. Roger was right beside him, offering him dried fruit and a cup of hot wine that gave off an intense aroma of cinnamon and cloves: the astrophysicist almost had an orgasm when the spicy liquid burned his throat and blurred his senses.

Roger watched him eat and drink voraciously, contemplating him in silence as he twisted a blond tuft between his fingers and licked nervously ~~hungrily~~  his lips.

  
\- It's all very good Roger, thank you, but I don’t want to take advantage of your cordialit _YYYYYY_!-.

  
A big cat with a thick grey hair and liquid amber eyes jumped on Brian, making him spill the wine on his robe (and emitting a very little masculine scream).

\- Delilah, get down! Be a good girl! Leave our guest alone! - thundered Roger, who seemed as surprised as he was. The feline, however, seemed intent on not listening to him, so he was forced to lift her (receiving in response an outraged meow) and to lock her out.

\- You must forgive her, Bri, she becomes unbearable when her owner is not here to spoil her! -Brian shook his head, giggling and trying to dab the hot spot that was widening at his groin: - Relax Rog, it doesn't matter! Poor little thing, maybe she misses her— _w- what are you doing?_

Yeah, what exactly was Roger doing kneeling between his legs with his hands touching him right there, _in that spot_? The blonde stared languidly at him from behind his half closed eyelids, and lifted the cloth: - I'm helping you, don't you see?

And yes, Roger was actually helping him to get rid of his dirty robe, but also of everything underneath it: and he was still helping him when he drove him up the spiral staircase, into a modest bedroom lit up by the light of a candle.

Roger kissed him with ill-concealed voracity, his hands sunk in dark curls and his hips swaying sinuously seeking more contact with his growing erection: Brian found himself moaning involuntarily, clearly excited.

The blond’s mouth met his lips again, but it was a brief and fleeting contact before he began to descend along his Adam's apple and down the hollow between his clavicles. Suddenly, cold, tapered fingers reached his congested sex, clutching at the base, and he found himself arching his back due to a violent burst of pure pleasure.

Brian forcefully reclined his head backwards, pushing his nape against the blankets, while behind his tightened eyelids unfolded a timeless s fireworks display that exploded when a hot cave completely welcomed him.

\- Ahh, Rog - Just as he was about to reach his climax, Roger pulled off soundly, but Brian didn't have time to protest as a new, narrower, hotter grip trapped his excitement: his lover was slowly impaling himself, inch by inch.

- _Bri, Bri, Bri.._. -

Roger's singing voice accompanied his ever faster sinkings and Brian's deep thrusts: Brian who felt the orgasm mounting within him, overbearing, closer.

Roger trapped his face with his hands, and stared at him with his eyes wide open: - Harder, Brian, harder, harder! Come for me! - and as he continued staring at him with the same maniacal look and the face twisted by pleasure, Brian poured completely into him with a guttural cry, the sweaty curls stuck to his forehead. Then came Roger, dirtying his own belly.

Brian found himself staring at the wooden beams, tired, satisfied; and while thin hands gently caressed his back and a warm breath washed his ear, he fell asleep.

 

_"Come to my garden, taste the fruits and the spices of love._

_You can't resist me, I'm the kind that your dreams tell you of "_

 

The next morning he was awakened by an unpleasant, continuous screeching. The astrophysicist yawned deeply and brought his hands to his temples, clearly annoyed: where was he? The dark curtains and the wooden attic left him momentarily breathless: that was not his room! But the panic soon faded to the realization of what happened the day before, and he relaxed: he was at Roger's house, he was safe. But it was Roger who, scraping his long ~~black~~ nails on the stone walls produced that terrible noise.

\- Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. - He hummed softly, leaning against the doorframe, without taking his hand off the wall  
  
\- Roger, what the hell...-  
  
\- For a moment I thought you died in your sleep and I almost had a stroke. You know how boring it would have been to eat you without even having the fun of _killing you_ before! -

It all happened very quickly: a moment later the blond was on him, his angular hips pressing him forcefully on the mattress and his hands blocking his wrists above his head, with an unnatural grin printed on his thin lips.

It was the sudden change in his clear gaze, however, that took the curl's breath away: the cerulean iris had become crimson red, his pupils had stretched like those of cats and Brian clearly perceived the moment when sharp nails pierced the thin skin of his hips: a black and thin tail slits the air above him. He cried, but Roger's mouth, ravenous, swallowed his lament, along with the blood that began to spill copiously from his lower lip when two pairs of sharp canines bit him.

\- Ssssh, don't freak out Bri, it's okay: there's nothing to be afraid of. -

No, Brian, he wasn't afraid. He was just terrified. What was going on? What was that _thing_? He tried to escape, but Roger's thin body seemed to have a superhuman strength, and all attempts to free himself from that deadly grip were in vain: naked, with his brain still clouded by sleep and no apparent way out, he felt lost like never before in his life.  


\- I'd like to tell you that it will all end soon, but it would be a lie. -  


The creature - _RogerisnothumanRogerisnothuman_ \- voluptuously licked his scarlet lips with a bifurcated tongue, whining in appreciation when Brian's taste struck his papillae, sending him into ecstasy.

\- You're delicious! - and he stretched himself out again to lapping the sweaty neck of the astrophysicist, while his lust for that succulent flesh titillated his senses, blurring his sight with a pleasure very similar to that of the previous night. - Nothing to do with that insipid little girl, who, let me tell you, was also quite unpleasant. -

Brian, in a flash of unexpected lucidity, took advantage of the blond's distraction and hit him hard in the head, intoning him: he slipped from under his body and plunged down the stairwell, moaning with pain when some pieces of wood stuck under his feet. He ran as fast as he could towards the door, his heart pumping in his ears: he searched for the handle. He was about to open the door, he could escape! The fresh morning air violently penetrated his nostrils -  
  
\- Close the door, Brian. -

Roger stared at him amusedly from the top of the stairs, the blue cloak of the day before covered in his blood, the tail waving nervously and the red eyes reduced to two inflamed slits: even so, and Brian cursed himself to the thought, he was beautiful, oh so beautiful, of a distorted and wrong kind of beauty. Brian's bony hand almost executed the command, but blocked itself in  mid-air. What the hell was he doing? He had to get out of there, don't waste time at...  
  
But that devil was on him again, and Brian swore that he had heard his skull creak when he hit violently the floor.

\- I love it when you put up a fight, you're tastier afterwards! -

\- Please let me go - The curl really wanted to sound intimidating and self-confident, but what came out of his throat was only a faint lament. He didn't want to die, he didn't want to die! A hiccup broke his chest. - I won't tell anyone, but let me go, I beg you. -

\- Let you go? And why should I do that? - with a single sudden bite, Roger tore off a good part of the delicate flesh of his shoulder, chewing it sonorously: Brian turned his head and vomited.  
  
\- You're the best thing I've ever eaten in centuries! -

Another bite, this time a little further down, and one more - And I swear to you Bri, my sweetest Brimi, if I could stop, I would! I mean, yesterday's sex was spectacular and I wouldn't mind doing it again! Moreover, you don't seem to have the same shitty character of the Frenchie... Mhmh, maybe, I could just let you go... - the blond look let his eyes glide over Brian's torn body, thoughtful.

At that point, the astrophysicist was drowning in his own blood, as his sweaty hands waved spasmodically... _but what did he say_? Was Roger letting him go? Would he have survived? Oh yes, he would have seen Deaky again, and also Veronica, his beloved stars, the sweet Chrissie who greeted him every morning before going down to the river...

\- Nah, only joking -

  
Brian screamed.

-

  
John started muttering incomprehensible insults as soon as he found himself at the entrance of the woods: Brian was a fool, an unconscious, stubborn poodle! But he was also his friend, and John would have done anything for his friends! Especially for those lost in a forest that had the potential to be the Devil's den.

\- When I find him, he will listen to me. Oh, he surely will, that empty head! He deserves a good lecture. Stupid Dr. May, with his stupid obsession fo...-

Cursing Brian, his beloved badgers, and all the stars of the firmament, the redhead made its way through the forest, with the well-loaded rifle under his right arm and the map squeezed into his other hand, unaware of two pairs of eyes that were staring at him.

\- What do you think, Fred? -

\- I think, my dear, that you have to make yourself comfortable and watch how the experts work. -

\- I beg your pardon? -

\- Oh no, honey, don't get me wrong, you did great yesterday and your performance was definitely noteworthy, but you have things to learn, and I'm here for it. Anyway, be glad: even today we'll be eating like queens, darling. -

 

_"...So he went inside there to take on what he found_

_But he never escaped them, for who can escape what he desires"_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> * The guarnazzone (sorry, I couldn't find the equivalent in English) is a long-sleeved surcoat that men in the Middle Ages wore over their shirts, tunics and skirts.  
> * The Braggot was a typical spicy beer.
> 
> Thank you for getting here. I hope you enjoyed the story. 
> 
> See you soon, 
> 
> M.E


End file.
